I have had many incidents of late in which I howl at the dreaded prospect of losing my wife (to others, to distance, to death, to herself). These have come out slantwise: as anger or jealousy, criticism and challenge. It is physiological.

A therapist recently suggested some alternate meanings. When my body convulses in paranoia and terror, what might its messaging be? Might it be saying that something or someone is terribly important to me, as significant as my own life and that I might well feel utterly helpless at that vulnerability? He suggested that my body is indeed feeling real-life threat…and that the left side of my brain whooshes in hoping to rescue (“SuperMeaningMan”) to concoct a story to match, to account for the tremors and heartbeat and anxious breaths. Things like: “I must not be good enough for her. She must be cheating. See how she dresses? See how she is tired when she looks at me? See how she keeps leaving the house?” and so on, or any number of scenarios…

When in possible fact I’m a flailing infant desperate for assurance and comfort, for a tender voice near. Which made a world of sense.